Trust for Christmas
by Soquilii
Summary: Based on Leverage: The Toy Job


**TRUST FOR CHRISTMAS**

**Based on Leverage: The Toy Job  
Rated G  
**

by Soquilii

Christmas in Portland...the team had all agreed not to exchange gifts this season...yet another fine job of work...or con job; call it what you will...completed. The Leverage, Inc. team sat grouped around the table as always, wrapping it all up; their client was satisfied and had been treated to a bit of justice. Everyone was content. Except...

After the client left, Sophie said, 'I think it's really _sad_ that we're so cynical about gifts. I used to - _oh!_ I _loved_ Christmas as a child!'

'Well, nothing's genuine any more,' said Eliot.

'That's not true, no,' Sophie replied. 'I've been thinking about this, and you know what _is_ genuine? _Trust.'_

'Trust?' Parker asked.

'Yes, trust. I think, no, _seriously_! I think we should give each other some...trust, for Christmas,' Sophie replied.

Parker said, 'What, like that Willow Exercise where you fall back and someone catches you?'

'No, not like that,' Sophie assured her.

'Good, because I did that once and I dropped the person and they had to get stitches.'

'Still hurts,' Hardison said.

'I know,' Parker replied, uneasily.

Sophie went on. 'I just think, uh, well, we've been through so much together, all of us, and we should give each other something _really personal_ this year, like, um, I dunno, a _story_, or, or a _secret._'

Eliot held up his wrist as a gesture, checking a non-existent watch for the time. He'd already had enough of this.

'No, come on!' Sophie said, 'bear with me, please, _please_. Who's gonna go first?'

Hardison shook his head.

'Eliot.' Parker volunteered for him. Eliot shook his head, adamantly.

'All right,' Nate said. They all looked in their boss's direction.

'When I was a kid, I wanted a trumpet one Christmas. My father played Sinatra all the time and ah, Sinatra had this trumpet player named Sweets Edison...Harry 'Sweets' Edison...great sound...amazing...I wanted to sound just like him, you know?

Christmas rolled around and there was no trumpet, just a pack of baseball cards. My father said that Santa must have had a rough year at the track so there's...

Anyway, a couple of days later, I wake up in my bed...and at the foot of the bed is ah, is a trumpet...I mean it's all tarnished and dinged up; my dad probably rolled somebody for it, but there it is, and I, uh, played that trumpet every day for ten years. I never, I never, uh, ended up sounding like Sweets Edison, but...

So, I gave it to um, I gave it to Sam on his eighth birthday, and that was um...his, um, first trumpet lesson was scheduled for the day, as it turns out, that he went into the hospital and I, so he...

I don't have anything left from my childhood, but I did keep the trumpet. I keep it on the boat.'

Nate took a swig of coffee, glad to be done with it. 'Who's next?'

'Well, since I started this, I'll go next,' said Sophie. It's just that...Christmas in London is simply _magical_; you have all that lovely snow and the lights of an old, old city, and lucky as I was at the time, a loving family to gift me each Christmas Eve.'

'You mean you didn't wait until Christmas _morning_? That's _against the rules_!' Parker protested.

'Perhaps in _America_, Parker, although _some_ families do Christmas Eve...but let me continue. Anyway, one year when I was quite small, I got a doll which turned out to be _exactly_ like the one my friend from two doors down received; you know how kids compare their toys. It had a ceramic face, a lace dress, and oh, it was simply beautiful. Well, something happened after a few days and the doll was broken. Something, a nicnac or something, fell on it and fractured its face. Well, I was heartbroken as you can imagine.

I wrapped the doll up, put on my galoshes and coat and got permission to go visit Susie, my friend. I told her my doll was cold, which was why she was all wrapped up. So we were playing, and I happened to see her doll in her closet. She left the room for a moment and I quickly replaced my doll with hers, wrapped it up and put one of her shoes on the broken face so she'd think she dropped it there herself. Then I hastily excused myself and left, taking her doll home.

And that, my friends...was my first 'grifter's' job. Well, not so much a grift as a..._grab_.' Sophie smiled at the memory.

'Well played,' said Nate with a straight face. 'Did Susie ever find out what you did?'

'_Never_. That's why I'm so proud of it. I must have been about...five.'

Nate shook his head. 'All right, so that's two of us; uh, will we hear from the other three?'

'Does this _have_ to be about Christmas?' Parker asked petulantly, 'Because I don't have a lot of Christmas memories.'

'This is about _trust,_ Parker...remember? We're sharing bits of ourselves, trusting in the others to accept them; to accept _us_. These are stories we've never heard about each other before, and it's a...well, it's a _bonding_ experience. We've all grown so close...yet we really barely know each other. Any story...it can be _any story at all_, about _anything_. Or a secret, even.'

'A secret?'

'Yes,' Sophie encouraged.

'Well, all right.'

Hardison looked at Parker with new interest, but his attention made her uneasy. He sensed that and tactfully went to the fridge for an orange soda.

'Bring me a beer, Hardison,' Eliot called.

Hardison was goaded. 'What, now I'm yo' _manservant_? Yo' own personal _Stepinfetchit_? Lincoln _freed_ the slaves, dude, or didn't you hear?'

'Aw _crap_, I'll get it myself!'

'See, _now_ you're learning.' Hardison sat down next to Parker.

'Go ahead, Parker,' said Sophie. 'Never mind them.'

'Well...' Parker was quiet for so long the others wondered if she'd escaped to Neverland. Slowly, her tale emerged.

'Archie Leach...you remember him, don't you?'

'Of course we do,' said Sophie.

'He didn't just teach me to be a thief. He rescued me.'

'From what?' asked Sophie with gentle concern.

'From...from an abusive foster family,' Parker said swiftly.

'The _whole family_?' asked Eliot, scowling. One thing he hated was for kids to be mistreated. Hardison reached out and took Parker's hand.

'Might as well have been. The wife...the mother...she...just turned her back on it. It was her son...and her husband...' Parker couldn't say any more. She took a deep breath. _'There._ I've _told_ it. Now it's not a secret anymore.'

'You're all right _now_, girl. Remember, I _always_ got your back,' said Hardison. 'Ain't _nobody_ gonna hurt you no mo'.'

'No, and Parker, we've learned a little more about you; about how strong you are,' Sophie replied. 'And we, all of us, we'll keep your secret as long as we live, won't we, guys?'

They all nodded. Hardison took Parker in his arms and held her tight for a moment.

'Eliot?'

'I'll go last, Sophie.'

'Very well; Hardison?'

The gentle man took a long draught of orange soda and sat thinking for a moment. 'Only thing I can tell you about is the day my Nana put that violin under that tree. Wasn't a big tree...she kept other foster kids 'sides me, you know, and money was always scarce. I remember we all decorated it with paper chains and little cardboard things we'd made; that she helped us make...probably the worst fire hazard on our block...but she made us feel like it was _ours_, and we _counted_, and we _loved_ her for that...anyway, like Nate here, I wanted to play something...the violin. I must have bugged her about it for weeks, making a pest outta myself...didn't hold much hope, neither, 'cause there were other kids to provide for and she couldn't seem to play favorites. She always made me feel like I was her favorite though...'

'Make a _point_, Hardison!' said Eliot, gruffly.

'I...you know...Eliot...I will...when I am _damn _good and ready.' Hardison bugged his eyes at Eliot, who sat staring at his bottle of beer.

'Violin,' Parker prompted.

'Well, look, _somebody_ wants to hear my story...thank you, Parker. Anyway, I dunno how she did it, maybe she got it from a hock shop. Man, it was _nice_! Had a case and everything. Well, I practiced and practiced and taught myself how to play it. Got pretty good. Must have played it four or five years, then computers came out, and...well, that was that...I still pick it up once in a while, as you know, but I'd rather develop a new computer virus than become Itzak Perlman.'

'Izzy..._who_?' said Parker.

'_Itzak_...Perlman...he's a _concert violinist_, Parker. Has to sit when he plays - he had polio.' Eliot was in a surly mood. The others glanced at him, wondering if he should be next or if they should just let it go.

'Eliot, uh, you don't have to participate in this if you don't want to,' Nate reminded him.

Eliot sat for a while; quiet, remote. Finally he spoke. 'Doesn't have to be something about Christmas, huh?'

'No, Eliot,' said Sophie, softly.

'OK. All right. So...' Eliot took a deep breath. 'I joined the army at 18, right outta high school. Had to get away from...' Eliot guzzled a sip of beer. 'Anyway, after basic we were all sent to Iraq. You guys don't really get it, but in the Army, a squad operates like _one man._ Yeah, yeah, an _Army of One_, go ahead and say it, Parker.'

'I wasn't going to say anything.'

'So, anyway, the deeper we went into advanced training, the more the squad learned to trust each other...you do that or you don't survive.'

Eliot seemed to be lost in a deep well of old memories; his face blank as a poker player's. Alec, Parker, Sophie and Nate patiently waited for him to go on.

Eliot cleared his throat. 'One incursion after another...we got picked off. As elite as we were, we were picked off, one by one. Mines...IEDs...snipers...it went from a squad down to five, then three, then...me.'

He went silent again.

'We're listening, Eliot,' said Hardison. 'Go on, man...we're with ya.'

'So, after I left the Army, as Nate knows, I worked alone for many years...hitman, wetwork...yeah, I even worked for Moreau...but always alone.'

He drained the beer and slammed the bottle down. 'I worked alone because I had lost my family...I had lost my brothers...I didn't dare risk it all again...'

He looked at them individually: Alec Hardison, who had become a brother; Parker, akin to an annoying little sister; Sophie, in a way, sort of equivalent to a mother and Nate, analogous to the father he'd needed.

'Then when I went to work for Victor Dubenich and came across you guys and Nate formed this team, I didn't want any part of it at first...it all represented everything I'd lost. Then, as time went on...'

'We filled the gaps in your life, didn't we, Eliot?'

'Yeah,' Eliot nodded. His eyes were suspiciously moist.

Everyone sat back and let out a sigh of relief. What had initially felt like one of Sophie's awful acting classes had indeed served to give vent to and dissipate nervous tension. The feeling was palpable in every one of them.

'Well,' said Sophie with great satisfaction, 'I think we've accomplished a great deal tonight. We've shared, talked, admitted and related things none of us knew, and we've established trust in each other…which I think was already there; we just confirmed it. Thank you all...I salute you. Pleasant dreams, good night...' she raised her wine glass in salute, 'and Merry Christmas!'

The End


End file.
